


Where You Abandon Things

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be loved by his father. It was all he wanted. But it took far too long for him to realize: not all fathers are related by blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Abandon Things

**Author's Note:**

> Based heavily on ‘Piece by Piece’ by Kelly Clarkson. This is full of a lot of vagueness and implications, so I hope you all catch what I’m throwing down here, you feel? (If not just let me know and I can totally explain it.) This is all from Damian’s point of view and skewed perception, so not, of course, what may actually be happening with Bruce. Also, whether Dick saw/was aware of the fight between Damian and Bruce is up to the reader. I’m sort of leaning towards maybe yes he did.

It was all he wanted.

His whole life, everything he’d ever done was for this. For _only_ this.

His father was Batman. He’d known that ever since he could _think_. His father was Batman, and that was the standard. Anything less was unacceptable.

And…it was all he wanted.

To work with him, to _be_ with him. His _father_ and his _mother_. To be a _family_. To make his father _proud_. To be _lov_ -

…It was all he wanted.

So he did everything. Everything his mother told him. Everything she _taught_ him. He bled, he sweat, he _murdered_ and _stole_. Under the guise – under _her_ _promise_ – that if he did, if he did it _all_ , down to a _T_ , then he’d win his father’s praises.

And when he met that holy father, when he met the _Batman_ , it was all wrong. His father told him so. He was _terrible_ and misled, so Damian took that everything – and changed it. Remade himself. Changed his language, his wardrobe, his attitude, his _morals_.

Because _it was all he wanted._

And then his father died, and nothing mattered anyway.

So then he was lost. Worthless. Nothing he did made anyone happy. Tim hated him, his mother disowned him, Todd and Cain and everyone else in the superhero community _avoided_ him. He was no good to anyone, so what was he supposed to do?

He didn’t notice, not really. Too caught up in his own grief and confusion – in _emotions_ , in _feelings_ his mother told him _never_ to have, in feelings he didn’t know _what to do with_ – to really pay attention. To see who was taking care of him now, to see who was _staying_ with him. To see who was _helping_ him, and how.

(And _why_.)

Suddenly – it all happened so fast. Suddenly, his father was back, suddenly he was his _partner_. Suddenly they were fighting _side by side_. Suddenly, though tentatively, and with more obstacles than he anticipated, he was getting everything he wanted.

Right?

…No.

Because it was the one thing he wanted.

And through team-ups and training and missions and breakfasts-

It was the one thing he never got.

Then the bounty went up. Then Talia swore to kill him. Then the family would just stare at him out of the corner of their eyes. With disgust or pity or _annoyance_.  Then, everyone left him behind, claimed it was for his safety.

And then, Damian realized that it wasn’t just wanting it anymore, he _needed_ it. He needed it _soon_ , or he might _break_. Verbally, physically, whatever. That validation, that reassurance, that _sign_.

(That he wasn’t worthless. That everything he did, his whole _life_ leading up to this one thing, it _worked_ , that he _earned_ it, he succeeded, he _got_ it. That he was lo-)

But then they argued. Then they fought.

About stupid things. Nothing important in the long run. Nothing important in the short run either. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even remember what the fight was about by _tomorrow_.

But he’d remember this. He’d remember this moment, as bright as day, for as long as he lived. He’d remember Bruce shouting at him, and him shouting back. But most of all, he’d remember thinking, remember _begging_ , just below the harsh words and loud voices:

 _Please love me. I’ll be good, I promise. Please love me. Please, Father,_ please _. Please, please, just love me!_

And he’d remember that moment forever, because then his father turned his back, and walked away. Left him in a dark cave. Alone. Without a word.

…It was _all_ he wanted.

And it was then, he realized, that he was never going to get it. That his father, that _Bruce_ , was never going to _give_ it to him.

He was grateful to be alone, then. Because that way, no one saw him crumble. No one saw him fall to his knees, clutch desperately at the ground. No one saw him sob so hard he couldn’t _breathe_.

Or so he thought.

He doesn’t know how long he knelt there, gasping and wheezing, watching through swollen eyes as teardrops fell onto his hands. It could have been hours. Days, even. But without warning, there was a hand on his back. Gentle. Soft. Then one on his chin, tilting his face upwards.

A smile, as that hand on his chin moved upwards and ran through his hair. Damian felt his lip quiver as he felt that hand on his back run comfortingly up and down his spine.

“Come here, kiddo.” Dick whispered, moving his hands again, pulling Damian up and off the floor.

And Damian would have never done it, they both knew that. Would never have jumped into his – or anyone’s – arms on a normal day. But he was broken and alone and _lost_ and didn’t _know what to do_ – and they both knew that too.

So he fell into the implied embrace. Let himself be clutched to a chest, held like the child he always pretended he wasn’t. Let himself be rocked, like an infant. Clung to Dick’s neck himself, and continued to wail, continued to let those tears rack his frame.

And then – like it was nothing. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was just that _simple_.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry.” Dick whispered into his temple, tenderly held the back of his head. “I _love_ you, Damian. I’ve got you, you’ll be alright.”

And Damian sobbed harder. Because he didn’t _deserve_ that. He didn’t _earn_ that.

Then it dawned on him suddenly, like an epiphany.

Because he didn’t _have_ to. He _never_ had to.

Not with Dick Grayson.

(The one who stayed with him, when he was lost. Took care of him, when he was alone. Who helped him, even when he pushed him away. When he _ignored_ him.)

“Let’s get you out of here.” Dick hummed, suddenly rising to his feet, Damian still tight in his arms. “We’re long overdue for a movie night, don’t you think?”

Damian could only gasp as Dick moved towards the cars – _not_ towards the manor – and tried to compose himself as he leaned exhaustedly against Dick’s collarbone, all fight and turmoil and tension out of his system instantly.

…Because it was _all he wanted._

And, as Dick gently carried him towards the hangar, as he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against his brother’s chest, he realized –

He finally _got it_.


End file.
